It's A Game
by Thalanee
Summary: A collection of JAzzxProwl stories belonging in the same verse as "War Is But A Game" from the September Challenge at the prowlxjazz community. Chapter 3: Want to find out what Jazz will do, if someone touches his Prowl? Pure crack...
1. Chapter 1

Airsupport

Author: Thalanee

Verse: It's A Game (AU)

Word Count: 1300 words

Warnings: crack, no eating or drinking while reading!

Rating: pg13

Disclaimer: I only wish they were mine, but they don't belong to me.

Summary: Sometimes Prowl takes always being calm and collected to new extremes…

Author's Notes: Just a little something that wouldn't leave me alone… Inspired by something Batman said in some Justice League episode I stumbled across on youtube.

Belongs in the same universe as "War Is But A Game": .net/s/7359061/6/A_Love_In_Black_And_White_Challenges

renegadewriter8: I haven't forgotten about the prompt you gave me, I will write it, but the bunny is playing hide and seek at the moment *lays out traps*

XXXXX

Prowl idly wondered how long this was going to take.

The ground was coming nearer at an alarming rate. He could already make out some details he hadn't seen from the flying city growing smaller above him. The winds from his fall whipping across his chassis and sensor wings Prowl idly remembered how he had gotten here, into the open air, with nothing there except solid ground to catch him.

He'd had a bad feeling about this particular mission from the beginning, but dismissed the feeling since there was no rational reason for it. After all it was a mission like any other, something he had done countless times already. His team was supposed to get into Sky City (the city's founders certainly couldn't be accused of creativity when it came to naming things), collect the intelligence from their contact without being discovered by the neutral city's guards or the Decepticons, who apparently were after the same information.

A fight between the two teams had been a given from the beginning, so Jazz, Hound, Mirage and Prowl had taken precautions for all sorts of things, knowing it would most likely be Starscream and his trines who'd be coming after them. They even had the Aerials and Skyfire near as backup in case they needed to leave fast.

Being chased through the city, splitting up and then falling of one of the bridges hadn't been part of the plan though.

Jazz would never let him live this down!

A propos living…

Activating his comm. he tried to reach the Autobot fliers. "I need airsupport. Now."

The answer wasn't what he expected at all though. Instead of Skyfire's deep voice, a well known screechy sound erupted from the comm. "Sorry Prowl, but your fliers are all otherwise occupied." The tone of the voice was deceptively sweet, Prowl just knew there was a large smirk on the Air Commander's face.

"That is rather regrettable." Keeping his own voice dry and inflectionless, Prowl stifled a sigh. It seemed he was going to die after all. As if he hadn't died often enough already. The thought of having to create his character all over again nearly made him groan out loud.

"Why, I hope you didn't need them for anything important." Starscream asked innocently. He was obviously getting a kick out of this.

"Thank you for your concern, but you need not worry. My need for them will be eliminated in another few moments." Looking down, the black and white was able to confirm his calculations. He had to give it to the creators of "The Great War", they certainly knew their programming, it felt as if he really was falling. He just hoped their penchant for realism stopped at things like the feel of an impact.

"Really?" A short pause, then the seeker spoke up again, incapable of containing his curiosity. "Why did you need them?"

"Because I cannot fly." Prowl answered, completely deadpan. "At all." He added after a moment's thought.

"Excuse me?" Surprise coloured the other's transmission.

"I called them, because being incapable of flight myself, I need someone to catch me. Preferably before I am getting to know the ground more intimately. Which will happen in exactly 2.7 minutes."

Silence reined for a second, before Starscream shrieked "What?" and the comm. was abruptly silenced. Not bothering to try and reestablish the connection, Prowl crossed his arms and idly watched the ground come closer. It was a pity really, this particular campaign had been one of the funniest to date. If his character really died now, he would have to create another and start all over again in a different setting according to the rules. Of course Jazz and Soundwave would hack the game server and recreate his character exactly like it was before, if he asked them (and maybe even if he didn't), but somehow that didn't seem right to the bot who was an enforcer in real life.

Resigning himself to the inevitable he didn't even register the wail of a highspeed seeker engine being pushed to the limit come closer, or saw the distinct shape of a seeker in vehicle mode diving down after him nosefirst.

Suddenly blue arms wrapped around his middle and seconds before impact whoever had caught him, pressed him to a red and white chassis and managed to veer away from the ground and fly back up, flipping him to carry Prowl bridal style in the middle of a breathtaking display of aerial acrobatics.

Looking up Prowl was greeted by a smugly smirking Starscream. "I heard you needed some airsupport, so I decided to fly by and see if I could help."

There were a lot of retorts Prowl could think of to that cheeky explanation, so he just picked the one that appealed to him the most. "I realize that arriving a few moments earlier would have made for a less dramatic entrance, but I would have appreciated it even more."

"Anytime, Prowl, you're welcome," Starscream shot back, before his grin turned even more devious. Soon the city came back into view, as well as the purple Decepticon cruiser docked in one of the aerial docks of the city. "You do realize what this means though?"

"That I am in your debt, I know." Prowl rolled his golden optics. Trust the wily scientist to remind him of that.

"Besides that." The grin on the dark face was really disconcerting. Whatever the seeker was thinking of, Prowl wasn't sure he liked the direction.

"I do not know what you are implying."

"You are an Autobot, I'm a 'Con. I caught you, so now you're my prisoner." Waggling his optic ridges suggestively, Starscream nearly cackled at the gobsmacked look on Prowl's face.

"Careful what you're saying next Star, you know how Jazz reacts when he thinks someone is flirting with me." The doorwinger pointed out, after all Starscream had rescued him. Besides who would he have his snarking matches with, if his mate offlined one of his best friends?

Wincing, the flier remembered the last unfortunate sod to make the mistake of coming on to the black and white. "No offense, but no. That would be like feeling up my younger sibling."

"None taken and likewise. So what were you referring to?"

Sniggering Starscream decided to explain. "You're my prisoner, which means your teammates need to rescue you. Which in turn means Jazz will be doing the rescuing and I'm willing to bet good high grade that he will do it in his usual dramatic fashion." Giddily he watched Prowl. He didn't get the reaction he was counting on though.

"So?" Prowl asked, tilting his head to the side.

"What do you mean, so?" The flier gaped at him. "The last time, he swept in, carried you out bridal style and declared his undying love for you in front of the whole armies!"

"You say that like it is a bad thing. In fact I am looking forward to it." He really was. The many and various creative ways Jazz found to court him again and again was what he loved most about the game.

When the red seeker gaped and sputtered at him, Prowl laughed. He really did love this game!

To Be Continued


	2. Chapter 2

A Daring Rescue (Jazz-style)

Author: Thalanee

Verse: It's A Game (AU)

Word Count: 2100

Rating: pg- 13

Warnings: more crack! And lots of fluff. As usual ne eating or drinking while reading ;P

Disclaimer: How I wish they were mine, but they are not

Summary: Remember Jazz's daring rescue of Prowl mentioned in the last chapter? This is what happened.

Author's Notes: Damn you bunny, I'm supposed to be working on a paper for my processor, not writing! *sigh* Oh well, I always write best when I'm supposed to be doing something else… like studying XD

XXXXX

The explosions were coming nearer.

Another minute and the source of the maniacal laughter accompanying the noise of things going boom would stand in front of Prowl's cell door, provided there was no one left who was dumb enough to get in the saboteur's way. They should all know better by now, actually.

This wasn't the first time Jazz rescued him from a Decepticon prison after all. They all knew what was going to happen, if they stood in the saboteur's way. The first time a Decepticon had made the mistake of capturing Prowl, Jazz had almost literally gone on a rampage after stealing Wheeljacks's newest invention (despite the fact that he didn't even know what it did, he just counted on what everyone called the 'Jack-effect, meaning that it would explode in a surprising and spectacular manner no matter what it was actually meant to do) and singlehandedly transformed Shockwave's primary stronghold into a forlornly smoking pile of rubble.

To this date Prowl still had to clamp down irrational giggle fits at the memory of Shockwave standing there looking and pointing at what had been his base, whimpering every now and then, unable to actually say anything or express his horror otherwise.

And judging by the shrieks of terror and the general sounds of destruction everything was going as usual. The guards in front of his cell were shifting nervously, watching the door with dread. Soon it was suspiciously quiet outside.

Exchanging uneasy looks the two mechs tentatively moved towards the door a couple of steps, holding their weapons in a tight grip.

"Do you think he's gone?" one of them whispered hesitantly.

"As if we could ever be that lucky," Dead End moaned, his usual fatalistic outlook getting away with him. "Judging from the sounds he's already laid waste to the entire base and now he's coming here. We're doomed."

"You can't know that," the other guard meekly protested, though he didn't sound as if he believed his own words… "Maybe it's so quiet, because the others stopped him."

"Oh no, he's just outside that door, laying in wait for the perfect moment to strike, and when he does, we're gonna die!" Dead End morosely replied. He just knew it was going to happen. Why shouldn't it? After all he always seemed to attract the worst luck possible. Ever since he had found out it was actually possible for a character in the game to die, he had known this day was coming!

As if the universe was trying to prove him right there came the loud thump of something heavy hitting the door to the brig.

Yelping loudly in surprise the two unfortunate 'Cons leaped back to where they had stood before, warily eyeing the entrance to their hideout.

With a bang the door flew open and in its frame stood the more black than white form of a fiendishly grinning Jazz, his silhouette outlined by the light streaming through the door, the sharp visor glowing blue.

Shrieking in a high pitch at the tops of their vocalizers the two guards let go of their weapons and clung to each other desperately, while Jazz stalked closer. The grin on his face gave him the look of someone slightly deranged. That he was chuckling evilly didn't make things any better. For every step the saboteur took, the guards retreated one, until their backs bumped into the bars of Prowl's cell. Still Jazz came closer, the glare in his visor becoming more pronounced when he saw that Prowl had actually been strung up by his wrists.

When Dead End heard Jazz snarling he couldn't take it anymore. He broke down. "Please, don't kill me, I swear I had nothing to do with that, it wasn't my idea, I was just told to guard the prisoner. You can have the keys, here!" Drawing the key card from his subspace he held it out to Jazz with a look so woeful, that it would have done Bluestreak proud.

Stunned Jazz did his best to keep from laughing. As if he'd ever really kill anyone, this game was supposed to be fun, not a real competition. However that didn't mean he wouldn't take advantage of the situation…

Giving his best menacing growl, he loomed over the two Decepticons after snatching the key card and snarled, "Get out of ma way." Suffice to say that he had never seen a bot run so fast, as those two were now, Dead End still shrieking something about the end of the world while they hightailed it out of the base, leaving Prowl and Jazz alone.

"Lookin' real good there, Prowler, Ah gotta remember this one for when we log off the game," Jazz drawled, appreciatively eyeing Prowl's slender body.

Prowl in turn rolled his optics. "Please get your processor out of the gutter, Jazz." Then he paused and glared at his bondmate. "And don't even think about it!"

"Think about what, Prowl?" the taller black and white replied as innocently as he could. He wasn't fooling the doorwinger though.

"Taking advantage of the situation." White doorwings twitched.

"Ah didn't say anythin' like that."

"But you were thinking it, do not deny it. I could see by the look in your visor."

"Aw, ya know me too well. Still," he stepped closer and pressed his body against Prowl's, idly stroking one doorwing and leaning in to nibble on the smaller's neck, earning a shiver and a gasp, "it's a really good look."

Damn, Jazz was doing it again, Prowl was rapidly loosing all conscious thought. Why was he opposed to this again? For some reason he couldn't remember… oh, right, Jazz was kissing his way up his neck and drawing glyphs in sensitive places on his wings, that's why. Systems heating up and spark fluttering, he was just about to give in- when Jazz stepped back and grinned at him! How dare he stop now?

Oh, Jazz wouldn't be getting any for vorns!

Chuckling at the furious look in Prowl's optics, Jazz opened the lock on the cuffs and swept Prowl up for a lengthy and passionate kiss. "Patience, Prowler, Ah promise we're gonna continue this later."

"I'll hold you to that promise." Prowl snarled.

Now the saboteur laughed outright. "Ya do that, Prowler, but now," bending down he scooped his mate up bridal style, and grinned, before he kissed Prowl, who now had his own arms wrapped around Jazz's neck, again and continued, "we gotta finish this rescue mission with style!"

"You do know that I am perfectly capable of walking myself." Prowl remarked drily.

"Indulge meh, Prowler, I wanna do this right."

Huffing, Prowl couldn't really stop the smile forming on his lips. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but secretly he enjoyed the attention Jazz gave him. Who wouldn't want to be courted like this? "Alright, you win."

"Yes!" Jazz whooped, "let's show'em what happens when they mess with us!"

Finishing his announcement with another kiss, which was returned enthusiastically, he swept out of the cell and made his way outside with a now happily purring Praxian.

XXXXX

Meanwhile, Optimus Prime and Megatron were busy squaring off outside, trying to outdo each other through meaningless or downright dumb "insults", that could in no way be called dialogue. So far no one had figured out if they did this to avoid truly insulting the other, if that was their way of having fun or if they did it to torture the innocent bystanders. Anyway it was excruciating to listen to them. Thank Primus they had not yet descended to the name-calling stage…

And that didn't mean they would be calling each other names, which would at least be mildly entertaining, no, it meant they would just call each other's names back and forth until the battle was over or someone took pity on the other bots and knocked one or both of them out to put a stop to it (usually Prowl or Starscream).

This time however, they were distracted before it could get that bad.

The main gate of the Decepticon stronghold exploding outward and nearly beheading the two leaders who just ducked in time made sure of that. As did the silhouette appearing in the smoke and walking out calmly.

When they all recognized what they saw, jaws hit the floors, and missiles and Ratchet's wrenches stopped flying. For Jazz was grinning like something you wouldn't want to meet in a dark place, scratch that, you wouldn't want to meet someone grinning like that in broad daylight. You really didn't want to cross the saboteur when he grinned like that… Everyone had seen him storming the stronghold, literally kicking down the doors, they had heard the sounds and seen the multiple explosions, and now here Jazz came, looking as pristine as ever, as though he had not just singlehandedly reduced the place to a pile of rubble. Somehow that made the spectacle even more awesome. Scary, but awesome.

And even more scary, no disturbing, was the fact that Prowl was smiling!

That couldn't mean anything good…

Their suspicions were confirmed, when Jazz reached his destination, a little outcropping that could be observed from every place on the battlefield. Once there, he finally let the black and white doorwinger out of his grasp, but still kept an arm around the white waist, and looked around.

"This," a wave of his black servo indicated the sadly smoking pile behind him, "is what happens if ya piss me off by harming my Prowler."

"Technically speaking they didn't harm me, they just captured me." Prowl explained.

"Bah, details, babe." Jazz retorted, gently kissing the tip of Prowl's nose, and then the centre of his chevron for good measure. He then whipped around to glare daggers at Shockwave, the instigator of this whole episode, who was futilely trying to hide behind his leader. "This ever happens again, and what Ah did here, will be child's play compared ta what Ah'm gonna do next! Understood?"

Vigorous nods from Decepticons and Autobots greeted his proclamation.

"Ah couldn't hear ya!" Jazz was lucky that he didn't have to keep from grinning, but Prowl was having Prowl keeping up the stoic expression on his faceplates when all he wanted to do was rolling on the floor laughing like a fool. As if Jazz ever truly would harm any of them. Not that they needed to know that… Suffer, villains!

"Yes, sir!" echoed from every single bot, regardless of faction.

Satisfied, Jazz nodded and turned towards Prowl, kneeling down in front of him and taking the white servos in his own silver ones. Prowl looked at him quizzically, but Jazz just winked his azure visor in answer, like he had when he had asked Prowl to bond with him shortly after they had first met. Oh…

Ratchet stormed closer. "You glitch, if you injured yourself-"

His rant was interrupted by the mech in question. "Primus, Ratch, can't a mech propose here without getting interrupted?"

That stopped the medic short. "Propose? But didn't you already do that?"

"Not in front of all of you." Was the cheeky retort. Turning back to the now blushing Praxian, he beamed at his mate happily. "Prowler, ma love, ya're the other half ta my spark and Ah don't wanna live without ya. Ya're funny, smart, gorgeous, everything Ah always wished for. Ya complete me like no other could. Would ya be ma bondmate, now and forever?"

Like he had the last time Jazz asked, Prowl didn't need to think about the answer to that question. He jumped Jazz and kissed him senseless, murmuring between kisses, "With all my spark, yes!" After another kiss, he added. "Again and again, whenever you ask."

Whooping Jazz twirled his bondmate around, ignoring all the "Aaww!"s and the bots complaining about being scarred for life now. They should get used to it.

After all this wasn't going to be the last proposal Jazz made to Prowl.

It was the first of many.

And Prowl wouldn't have it any other way!

The End (of this oneshot)

Note: Tell me what you think?


	3. Chapter 3

At First Sight

Part I

Author: Thalanee

Verse: It's A Game

Word Count: 2900 words

Warnings: crack, no eating or drinking (your keyboard will be grateful)

Rating: PG- 13

Disclaimer: I only wish they were mine, but in truth they are not…

Summary: They've met in the game, and now it's time to meet in the real world too. If only Jazz and Prowl knew how that first time together was going to end!

Author's Notes: See what I'm doing when I'm supposed to be listening to my lectures? But I needed to write something fluffy and funny, so here it is.

One version of Renegadewriter8's Jealousy-prompt (I'm still working on another).

XXXXX

To anyone who cared to look closely enough it was obvious that the silver mech sitting at a quiet table in the bar could barely contain his excitement, at least if the giddy way he was bouncing up and down in his seat was any indication. Even the usually dark visor fritzed on and off in a myriad of different colours. The reason for this show of nerves?

Jazz would finally meet Prowl in the real world!

The first time they had crossed paths they had been playing their characters in the new game "The Great War" in a version that would later be called Generation 1. The graphics depicting the mechs were still in their infancy at that point, so they didn't look so great. Ok, truth be told they did a horrible job of it, making the bots look boxy, but originally the game wasn't meant to be anything but entertainment for its own inventor (who was having the time of his life right now tweaking with the settings and constantly improving the game with his growing horde of fellow programmers). But it had been fun to play anyway, especially when he had earned enough experience to be promoted to officer rank and was subsequently teamed up with the Autobot tactician, a mech who had introduced himself as Prowl.

As far as he knew that was the mech's real name (almost no one in the game used an alias anyway). Despite their different personalities, or maybe because of them, they had hit it off right from the start. Gaming together had turned into chatting via the game channel had turned into writing long letters had turned into talking over comms, sometimes for hours.

Over the course of time Jazz had somehow found himself falling for the reserved, soft-spoken mech with the light lilting voice, that sounded almost as if the mech was singing, even though he had no idea what Prowl actually looked like, since due to aforementioned reasons a bot's appearance in the game was no indicator of his appearance in real life. Jazz himself was a prime example for that, since his broad-shouldered silver body didn't look anything like his black and white character. But he had already decided that he didn't care what Prowl looked like, big or small, massive or slender, mech- or femme-frame, grounded or seeker, young or old, all that didn't matter to him.

A mech could hope though, since there was one detail he knew he would love already: Prowl had described himself as a black and white Praxian mech with doorwings and enforcer decals, and to say that Jazz had always had a thing for wings would be an understatement. As such he would be easily recognizable here in Iacon, where he had been transferred to from Praxus, his hometown.

Checking his chronometer once again his spark nearly stopped spinning. Prowl was supposed to arrive right now, and if he was as punctual with meetings as he was with calls he could be here any minute.

As if on cue, a new mech entered the bar and stopped a few steps from the entrance to look around.

Jaw hitting the floor Jazz idly wondered if it was physically possible for a Cybertronian to drool like an organic. It certainly seemed to be the appropriate response to him.

Because the mech was beyond gorgeous. The simple black and white paintjob suited his slender frame perfectly, right down to the red and gold accents. Absently he noted he little red triangle in a very intriguing place on black hips, before his eyes were drawn upward by the movement of regal white doorwings adorning the mech's back. His hands itched to touch them, stroke them… no, bad Jazzy, don't go there. Trying to distract himself from the products of his own treacherous imagination he looked up at a face most bots wouldn't have called beautiful, but to Jazz it was wonderfully exotic, and right into mesmerizing golden optics, slightly slanted and just a little larger than average. High cheeks and full lips completed the look, crowned by a ruby chevron with a golden centre.

When Prowl moved, Jazz nearly melted. The doorwinger was poetry in motion. At the moment Jazz was very much disinclined to believe Prowl's claims that he was average in looks for Praxian standards.

In fact he was so busy drinking in the sight of his date that he didn't even notice Prowl looking back at him and moving toward him now- only to be stopped by another mech!

That one was obviously drunk out of his processor and now leaning in close to the much smaller doorwinger, chatting him up. Jazz had to clamp down hard on the sudden desire to get over there and rip out the drunkard's facing equipment with his bare servos.

XXXXX

Prowl was beginning to get very annoyed.

Considering that Prowl usually had the patience of a saint, that was saying something. It was hard to trigger his temper, but if one succeeded the result was spectacular.

The enforcer had entered this bar, where he would finally meet Jazz for the first time. Stepping through the door he had to pause for a few moments to allow his optics to adjust to the many coloured lights. His doorwings nearly twitched along with the rhythm of the music, but the enforcer had taught himself to control the movements of his panels, keeping them still on his back.

The songs were upbeat, mechs and femmes dancing along with them without a care whether it looked good or not, everyone just enjoyed themselves. Jazz had recommended this bar when they were looking for a place to meet.

Speaking of which, Prowl remembered and looked around to find the other in the throng of bots. Almost immediately he laid optics on a silver form lounging in one of the chairs at an out of the way corner table that had a view of the full room.

The mech was slightly taller than Prowl, his silver armour glowing attractively in the lights in a way that made Prowl want to run his servos all over it. Wrapped in the armor was a strong looking broad shouldered body. Half of the handsome face with a contagious megawatt smile was covered by a dark visor, giving him a mysterious, somewhat dangerous

Air that sent delicious shivers down Prowl's back and made his wings flutter in an unconscious attempt to give him a more appealing appearance.

This was without a doubt Jazz. Doorwings hiking up on his back, Prowl gathered all his courage to approach the silver mech, all the while praying to Primus that this date would not end as disastrous as his previous experiences. Other bots had been put off by his quiet, reserved nature, one mech even going so far as to call him an emotionless drone to his face. Another it had turned out had only dated him in order to see how fast he could worm his way into Prowl's berth, going so far as to bet with his friends how long it would be. Prowl was forever grateful he had found out beforehand.

Only sheer willpower and practice kept him from showing any signs of his thoughts on his face. When Jazz had asked him to meet for real, Prowl's first instinct had been to refuse. Convinced that such a thing could only lead to hurt and disappointment he had been prepared to say no, but a tiny feeling in his spark had prompted him to give it one more try (besides Starscream had threatened to drag him to the date by his doorwings if he wouldn't go on his own… some friend the seeker was). If Jazz rejected him too, he would give up on romance once and for all.

Determined to face the inevitable rejection he thought was coming, he began to make his way over to Jazz, weaving his way through the mechs and femmes dancing to the beat of the music. The songs were loud but not overly so. Still it was not entirely comfortable on the sensitive sensor panels.

He had almost arrived at his destination, when out of the blue a big yellow and purple mech appeared, highgrade in hand, and lurched closer to Prowl, placing himself squarely between the black and white and his goal.

"What's a cute thing like you do in a dump like this?"

"I beg your pardon, but that is none of your business." Prowl replied, matter of fact. "I am expected, so would you let me pass, please?"

"Aw, don't be like that, kitten. I'm sure we're gonna enjoy each other's company!" Waggling his optic ridges suggestively he gave Prowl a full body leer.

Scrunching up his nose in disgust at the smell of highgrade the mech gave off, Prowl threw him the coldest look he could muster. "You are not endearing yourself to me. Cease this display and leave me alone."

Mechs had been known to cower in terror when subjected to the sight. Not this one though. Either he was too drunk to notice or he was too drunk to realize what that look meant, the fact was, he made a very grave error in judgement: mistaking Prowl's icy silence for shyness or silent permission he slung an arm around the doorwinger's waist and tried to draw him in closer to his own chassis.

Golden optics narrowed in anger, as Prowl was just about to grab the offending appendage and use it to throw the other mech to the other end of the room by it (make no mistake, small Prowl may have been, but he could do it), when he was interrupted mid-movement.

"There ya are, ya sleazy slagbag!" en enraged voice howled, drowning all the other noise in the bar and thereby drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Turning to look bots saw a silver mech stalking over to the big drunkard, pointing at him accusingly. "Ah wait at home with our little sparklings and where are ya?"

Pausing to look around, the new mech prowl recognized as Jazz gestured theatrically. "Gallivanting about in a bar, tryin' ta force yourself on unsuspecting mecha!" Jazz looked absolutely crushed, conveying the impression of a mech near the verge of tears. Prowl could hardly believe his own optics and audios, but then it dawned on him and he was hard pressed not to laugh. Disapproving stared focused on Jazz's unsuspecting victim, while unfriendly mutters rose in the audience. How could a mech neglect their own family like that?

By then everyone had stopped whatever they were doing to watch the drama playing out in front of them. The DJ, a friend of Jazz's named Blaster, had even turned down the music somewhat so everyone could hear better. The thusly accused opened his mouth to say something, dimly aware despite being drunk that something wasn't right here, but before he could say anything in his defense Jazz continued, his voice seeming like a dejected whisper (though he was still audible to most of the patrons around).

"What am Ah supposed ta tell our little ones when they ask for their daddy, so he can read them a bed time story? That ya prefer ta drink yourself into a stupor and prey on innocents like him?" There Jazz pointed at Prowl who by now was trying to twist out of the drunkards grasp, which proved to be surprisingly strong. "I should have listened ta my friends when they warned me not ta fall for ya, but Ah protected ya and this is how ya choose ta repay me? Shame on you!"

Shoving at the big mech's chassis, Jazz used the opportunity to grab Prowl and free him from the other's grasp, clutching the doorwinger to his own chestplates protectively. "And here ya are whispering the same sweet nothings into this innocent's audio," Jazz nearly shrieked, "But Ah shall rescue him from your clutches like ma friends tried ta rescue me! Ya won't succeed this time." With this, Jazz turned to move.

"Hey!" the doomed one bellowed, but he didn't get any further than that. Jazz pushed past him, the crowd that had gathered parting for Prowl and him.

"Stay here and drink, ya don't deserve our sparklings!" the silver mech yelled in parting. Prowl couldn't take it anymore! He buried his face in Jazz's neck to smother his laughter. Shoulders shaking and wings quivering violently with repressed laughter, he tried to hold it in but couldn't help the occasional hiccup escaping him. Jazz realized that Prowl was near hysterical with laughter, but everyone else thought Prowl was crying, making them even more determined to teach the mech some manners.

"Come, sweetspark, let's leave." Jazz crooned, using the apparent tears as an excuse to lead an unresisting Prowl away and out of the bar, stepping out into the cool night air, where they could only dimly hear the music from the bar and other places.

Jazz felt very pleased with himself.

That mech should have known better than to touch what was Jazz's! Never mind that there was no way the mech could have known or that he and Prowl weren't even a couple (_yet_, his spark supplied helpfully and enthusiastically), it was the principle of the thing. Prowl belonged with Jazz, period.

Normally Jazz wasn't the jealous type, but seeing that other mech chat up the doorwinger had really fragged him off. And when the mech wouldn't leave Prowl alone, Jazz was hard pressed not to go over there and do something drastic. Yet, when he had dared touch Prowl, the silver mech had snapped!

How dare he?

Originally he was just going to rip the mech's facing equipment off, but then he's had an even better idea, and it had worked out beautifully. So beautifully in fact, that he still had an armful of laughing Praxian hanging onto him for dear life.

Yes, life was really good right now.

It took Prowl a while to regain his composure, but after a while he managed not to collapse into giggle fits remembering what had happened and looked up at his rescuer, golden optics still glowing with laughter. "That was absolutely priceless! How did you come up with that?"

"That's for meh ta know and ya ta find out, Sweetspark." Flashing his visor on and off, he winked at the mech still in his arms. Prowl hadn't let go yet, and Jazz would be damned before he did.

"So it is a trade secret?" the doorwinger teased back.

"Something like that. Good to see you enjoyed the show, Prowler." A roguish grin spread on Jazz's face, as he moved his head to indicate the entrance to the bar.

"I did, and my name is Prowl, as you very well know, Jazz."

"'S ma nickname for ya, as is Sweetspark."

"Isn't a nickname supposed to shorten one's designation? Lengthening my name like that rather seems to defeat the purpose of the exercise." Tilting his head to the side, Prowl looked up at Jazz confused.

A confused Prowl looked rather cute in Jazz's opinion. "Shush, ya." He laughed. "Ah'm gonna do it anyway."

Shaking his head, Prowl abandoned that line of conversation, knowing that Jazz wouldn't be deterred in any way. And he didn't really mind, anyway. Allowing a small smile to appear on his face, Prowl fluttered his wings. "I neglected to thank you for rescuing me. I appreciate the help."

"Don't mention it, Sweetspark." Jazz purred, pressing a kiss to Prowl's chevron.

Which was when Prowl realized just how closely he was pressed to that silver chassis. Blushing furiously he tensed a bit, but found himself strangely unwilling to part with Jazz, especially since there was a warm tingly feeling where their chestplates touched. He didn't know what it meant, he only knew that he wanted it to last.

Jazz smiled at him, and stepped back somewhat so he wouldn't make Prowl uncomfortable, though he kept an arm around the doorwinger's waist, still holding him close, as unwilling to part as Prowl was.

"What say ya, we go somewhere else and enjoy the evening? Ah know this really nice place in a park around here. No drunk mechs this time, Ah promise!" He held a hand over his spark impishly, hoping Prowl would say yes.

"Alright." Prowl answered, laying one of his servos over the one Jazz had wrapped around him, drawing closer still.

So they wandered off into the night for their first date.

And neither of them had a clue that the next day they would wake to find themselves bonded to each other.

To Be Continued

Notes: I don't know how long I'll be working on the second part, but I will post it. I just don't know when yet. Next up will be the December Challenge stories and the next chapter of Things We Do For Love.

Please, tell me what you think?


	4. Chapter 4

Don't Touch!

Author: Thalanee

Verse: AU (my It's A Game- Verse)

Word Count: 2000 words.

Rating: pg 13

Warnings: pure and utter crack

Disclaimer: I only wish they belonged to me, but they don't.

Summary: Prompt: Jealousy. What will Jazz do if someone else tries to hit on Prowl? Are you really sure you want to know?

Author's Notes: Thanks to renegadewriter8 who gave me the bunny and all my reviewers who gave me so much positive feedback for this verse!

I know I promised a new chapter of Things We Do For Love next, but I desperately needed something funny and the bunny insisted.

I blame temporary loss of sanity for this! XD

XXXXX

If looks could kill no force in the entire universe, not even the combined effort of Unicron and Primus, would have been able to save the bot Jazz's death glare was directed at.

Considering that what he was observing happened in the cyberspace of the online game "The Great War" maybe he could _make_ looks kill? The whole concept seemed very tempting right now. Hacking the game's server didn't take that much effort, too. Jazz had done it before countless times… All it would take was rewriting a little piece of code and his optics would be able to burn other bot's characters to little piles of ash once he took off the visor (just like one character in that Earth movie could...).

Growly noises erupted from the silver mech, prompting a confused look from the other three mechs about to log into the game. Craning their necks they looked at the screen Jazz was sitting in front of, intending to find out just what had ticked off the silver mech so badly that he was making growly noises at the screen.

Currently most mechs of the two factions were engaged in what could be referred to as a free for all brawl at the entrance of an old ruin. For both the Autobots and the Decepticon that particular ruin was of great interest, because it was supposed to harbor an ancient artifact: the 'Cons needed it as an assembly place for their newest doomsday device and the 'Bots wanted it so the Cons couldn't use it. For that reason both factions were locked into little one on one fights with each other, directed by Prowl and his bunch of tacticians up on one hill top and Shockwave and Soundwave on the other. Starscream, Thundercracker and Skywarp had intended to join the fun when they had noticed Jazz glaring icicles at the scene.

The reason for Jazz dark, uncharacteristically murderous mood?

Another mech. Touching. His! Prowl!

Granted, he was only touching Prowl's hands, but he was openly flirting with Prowl. And the worst thing about it all was Prowl's obliviousness to it all. Usually a confused, oblivious Prowl was a very sexy Prowl in Jazz's optics, but right now the saboteur found himself wishing his partner wasn't that dense when it came to flirting.

"You know, you could simply defect, go 'Con and kill the idiot's character." Skywarp's voice interrupted his thoughts. "It's not like Smokescreen doesn't deserve it."

"Don't tempt meh, guys. Ah'm that short of getting in, going over there and throttling him already." Jazz snarled back, emitting a noise a human would have identified as that of a kettle about to boil over, when he saw the blue Praxian "accidentally" brushing a hand against one of the delectable white wings Jazz loved to touch. "Da only problem Ah got is that Ah'm dead, remember?"

Starscream snorted, his ruby optics narrowing slyly. "As if that ever stopped you. Why not create a new character and just trash him? I know you have another as backup stored somewhere. It would be a matter of seconds."

"Oh no, Ah have something very special in mind for that little slagger." Jazz hissed, not noticing that his sharp silver claws were leaving dents in the table. The seekers watched in amusement. The trine knew that when Jazz got creative things got interesting and they would turn 'Bot before missing a single second of it.

But after a few more minutes of Jazz alternately chewing holes into the table or snarling at the screen they exchanged looks, wiggling their wings at each other in the language familiar to Vosnians and Praxians. After some deliberation and careful thinking a round of metal, mesh and claws (the Cybertronian equivalent of rock, paper, scissors) determined who would speak up. Thundercracker lost.

:: Why do I have to do this again? :: he asked a last time, before resigning himself to his fate.

:: Because you are so much braver and stronger than we are :: Starscream shot back, while Skywarp grinned cheekily, giving TC a thumbs up.

"So… what are you going to do?"

Jazz grated his denta, before finally bursting out loud. "Ah don't know, alright? Ah can't decide on anything, nothing seems scary enough." The last sentence came out as a whine, before Jazz thumped his head against the table.

"Let's hear it," Skywarp offered, "maybe we can help."

Looking at the purple seeker speculatively, Jazz remembered that 'Warp was one of the greatest pranksters the game and real life had ever seen. Azure visor gleaming he imagined what they could accomplish if they really worked together. Oh, yes, that Smokescreen wouldn't know what hit him…

"Alright, but let meh get ma new character online beforehand. Then we can plot."

And then Skywarp uttered one idea Jazz could actually have kissed him for. "Why not use your old character? Return from the dead so to speak?"

Blue visor met red optics.

And their owners grinned maliciously. This was going to be soo good!

XXXXX

Meanwhile Prowl was busy directing the battle and ignoring Smokescreen's advances.

The tactician wasn't nearly as oblivious to the blue bot's advances as Jazz had thought. Prowl had noticed… after some time, anyway, and decided the best way to deal with the unwanted attention was to ignore its source. Unfortunately that plan had backfired, now the blue mech was convinced that the black and white was just playing hard to get.

Sighing Prowl wished Jazz was there, but the silver mech had died spectacularly (heroically, a voice sounding oddly like Jazz corrected in his head), being torn in two by Megatron and had yet to return with a new character.

Why Smokescreen thought he had a chance was beyond Prowl anyway. Everyone knew he was with Jazz, and everyone also knew the silver mech and he were bonded. Or at least they should by now, considering the many and various ways Jazz found to court him and claim him as his for all bots to see. One would have to be very slow in the processor to miss that.

Smokescreen was anything but slow, but Prowl had missed a crucial variable in that equation. For Smokescreen was fairly new to this game, and while he had watched the two-mech-soap-opera that was Jazz and Prowl, he had failed to notice that they were bonded and no one had told him, since every bot considered it common knowledge.

He had been warned to keep his hands of the black and white Praxian, if he wanted to survive, but didn't take the warnings seriously.

So far Prowl hadn't acknowledged any of his advances, but Smokescreen was determined to have the other Praxian at least go on a date with him. It would be his chance to woo the other away from the silver Polyhexian.

Grinning Smokescreen stepped closer to Prowl, and upping the game, pressed a servo to the other's white back just beneath the doorwings. "Hey, once this battle is over we should go get some energon together, get to know each other, you know?"

Golden optics narrowed in what Skywarp had once termed the Scowl of Doom. "Please cease this behavior at once. I am already spoken for, as you very well know."

"Aw, don't be like that."

What happened next was an unfortunate mix of bad judgment and very bad timing, if you looked at it from Smokescreen's perspective at least.

In an attempt to get into Prowl's good graces Smokescreen slithered closer, missing the way white claws flexed and doorwings rose in annoyance. However, he couldn't miss the way the ground in front of them trembled slightly, a small mound of Earth forming.

Suddenly, a clawed silver servo shot out of the ground, covered in earth and in a slight frey sheen, prompting a very unmechly shriek from the blue Praxian. Especially when the mound grew bigger and a silver mech literally clawed his way out from under the ground, snarling and growling incoherently, the formerly blue visor glowing a dark grey.

The battle stopped as everyone stared at the spectacle (or in the case of three freshly logged in seekers filmed it for future use).

It was unmistakably Jazz's frame, but it looked wrong. One could also see the remnants of the large tear in the silver chassis, courtesy of the Decepticon leader.

Prowl leaned back, unable to tear his optics from the silver chassis. At first he thought he thought someone allowed themselves a very bad joke, but then he noticed the odd little bursts of mischief flowing over his bond with Jazz, not to mention the very familiar twinkle in the other's visor and the way he obviously had to fight down the large grin threatening to appear on his face. The doorwinger didn't know exactly what his mate was up to, but he decided to sit back and watch. Just this once.

Never let it be said that he was above petty revenge.

Stretching out his servos in front of him, Jazz shambled in Prowl's and Smokescreen's direction, moaning theatrically. "My Prowl…" He had planned to speak more, but as it turned out, he didn't need to. As soon as he so much as looked at the blue mech, Smokescreen turned around and ran, shrieking something about zombies and not wanting his processor eaten (now there was a bot who had watched too many of the wrong Earth movies, Jazz thought).

Jazz followed him for a while, which resulted in Smokescreen establishing a new record for the speed a bot could achieve on foot.

Cackling, Jazz congratulated himself on an entrance well down, when he was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their vocalizer. Turning around he was greeted by Prowl regarding him with a raised optic ridge. Glittering golden optics betrayed the doorwinger's mirth concerning his mate's antics.

"Hi Prowler, ya like ma new get up? 'S all the rage now." He posed, showing off his "zombified" self.

"How in Primus' name did you come up with that?" Prowl asked.

"Sadly, Ah can't lay claim ta that idea alone. 'Warp helped." He pointed to the purple seeker up in the sky who waved back enthusiastically, while Thundercracker held up a madly laughing Starscream so he wouldn't plummet out of the sky.

"I might have known."

"Ah had ta teach the newbies ta keep their servos off of ya."

"Are you quite done?" Prowl asked dryly, wings twitching minutely.

"Nah, not yet, babe."

"Considering that you have already scared away the competition quite thoroughly, there is little else that remains to be done."

"But Ah still have ta show'em all yer mine, Prowler." Jazz pouted. "Wouldn't want anyone else ta make tha same mistake."

"Do I even wish to know what else you have planned?"

A roguish grin was the only answer as Jazz stepped closer.

His optics widened as Prowl realized what Jazz was about to do. "Oh no, don't even think about it." He tried to sound serious about it, but there was the slightest sound of laughter in his voice, betraying his excitement.

But it was too late anyway. Jazz, picking up on his Prowl's real mood, had already bent down and in a single swift movement slung Prowl over his shoulder, carrying his unresisting mate off, crossing through the whole battlefield of mechs and femmes frozen in whatever position they had been in during Jazz's grand entrance, leaving a sea of turned heads in his wake.

He walked toward the highly convenient sunset, Prowl in his arms, while everyone stared and the seekers overhead laughed themselves silly.

Author's Notes 2: See? I told you it was crazy…

I blame a bunny over on the tf bunny farm that said that Jazz returns from the dead, for real, as a zombie or otherwise…


	5. Chapter 5

At First Sight, or What Exactly Happened Anyway?

Part II

Author: Thalanee

Verse: It's A Game- Verse

Word Count: 2000 words

Rating: nc-17 (just in case, nothing explicit though)

Warnings: Crack, utter crack… don't eat or drink anything while reading this, for the sake of you poor computer XD

Disclaimer: I only wish Transformers belonged to me, but they don't.

Summary: Their first meeting just started, and it's not going to go as everyone expected it to…

Author's Notes: Here is the second part to At First Sight some of you asked me about. Took me long enough to wrestle into shape, but I finally managed after more than two months of severe writer's block. Enjoy, and tell me what you think.

And maybe listen to Bruno Mars "Marry you" while you're at it.

XXXXX

"You know when you said you needed my help, I didn't think you meant that I would have to bail you out of prison." The speaker's voice sounded oddly pressed, as if he was desperately trying not to double over laughing.

A pitiful whine drifted through the bars of one of the two cells in answer, while the silver mech sitting inside did his best to look as innocent as possible. Not that he fooled anyone with the act. Not even with the kicked puppy look he somehow managed to pull off despite wearing a visor.

On the other side of the bars from Jazz, Prowl was busy blushing crimson, while he did his best to appear dignified despite the circumstances. Occupying a cell of his own though, made that endeavor rather difficult.

Exasperated Prowl huffed, studiously looking anywhere but at the mech who had addressed him. "Well, are you going to help us or not?" he finally asked

Incapable of further containing the laughter, the white and red mech finally gave in to the urge to laugh himself silly, his wings shaking with mirth. When he was finally able to stop and catch some breath, he leaned against the bars to the separate cells Prowl and Jazz called their own right now. "Come on, mech," he wheezed, cackling again, "even you have to admit this is hilarious!" Saying so, he collapsed into another giggle fit, all but rolling on the floor.

The mech was having the time of his functioning right now. If anyone had told him that he would have to bail Prowl out of prison, he would have laughed himself silly, especially since he always thought if something like that would ever happen, it would be Prowl who'd bail _him_ out!

As it was, Starscream found it incredibly hilarious, that straitlaced, rule-abiding, reserved and proper Prowl had been arrested for interfacing in public!

"So I take it the date went well," the seeker drawled, once he was in control of himself once again.

"Ah'll say!" Jazz piped up happily, from his perch on the cell's berth, as close to Prowl as the bars would allow him. If not for the bars it was pretty obvious that Prowl would have been sitting right in Jazz's lap. It didn't escape the flier's notice that the doorwinger was not averse to the attention, quite the contrary in fact.

"Care to tell me what you were thinking?" Starscream raised an optic ridge and eyed his best friend expectantly. Whatever had happened, had to be a story worth hearing… and razzing the doorwinger with for vorns! That's what friends were for, after all.

"And here I am, believing that not really thinking got us here in the first place," Muttering the Praxian moved closer to Jazz's questing servos, earning a purr from the silver mech as Jazz wrapped his arms around the white waist through the bars separating them. Starscream still wasn't sure if he found the display cute or sickening…

"To quote your _bondmate_," Starscream snickered, "I'll say. What exactly happened anyway?"

XX What exactly happened:

They just couldn't keep their hands of each other.

When they were not pressed so close to each other that not even a single molecule could have fit between their plating, some parts of their bodies were always in contact. A servo holding the other's, a digit tracing lines on a hip, a doorwing brushing the other's arm, knees touching when they sat side by side… and neither of the two realized what they were doing, they were much too busy staring into each other's optics. In short the two mechs were a walking romance novel.

It would have been enough to make anyone thoroughly sick of the two lovebirds.

Or jealous.

It all depended on whether you were a mech or a femme. If you were the former, the way they danced around each other made you want to scream, while the latter tended to just watch them and go "Aw!".

Not that either Jazz or Prowl noticed as caught up as they were in each other.

Currently they were in one of the parks in Iacon, giggling like a pair of younglings as they thought back to their first real meeting this very night.

"I still cannot believe that you managed to fool everyone in that club." Prowl said, golden optics twinkling with mirth.

"Ah'm just that good, but you should know that Prowler. Don' tell me ya don't remember tha things Ah did to the Cons in the game." Jazz sounded almost offended, if it wasn't for the large grin that had taken up permanent residence on his face ever since he had got his hands on the Praxian. Not a minute had gone by when he had not been touching Prowl ever since they had left Blaster's club and then after that gotten chucked out of Soundwave's for "acting worse than a pair of lovesick younglings with their first crush and scarring his customers".

After that they had given up on dancing and decided to have a picknick under the stars. After retreating to one of the more quiet corners of the park near a little lake they had sat down and talked for hours, feeding each other little morsels until Prowl had practically ended up in Jazz's lap.

For Prowl it was perfect. Even before when they had only met in the game or talked over comms he had known Jazz was the one bot he could share everything with. Meeting the silver mech in person had only sealed what some part of him had known already: this was the one. Despite what he had initially feared Prowl knew he'd never regret this date.

His spark was pulsing in contentment, little flares of an indescribable feeling rushing through his whole chassis whenever their sparks came near each other. He couldn't get enough of it, enough of Jazz's hands on his chassis or the gentle caresses bestowed on his wings.

Meanwhile the silver singer did his best to take advantage of Prowl's closeness. He just couldn't help himself. Sure, he had dated before, had been in relationships before, but he had never felt what he did now in his spark. Knowing what those tingling pulses of his spark meant, he would be damned if he'd ever let go of his Prowl again!

Suddenly he had an idea.

A crazy, wonderful idea, the best he'd ever had. Since his spark was in control (his processors had ong ago melted into a pile of happy goo), it happily decided to put it into action.

"Hey, baby?" Jazz nuzzled Prowl's neck gently, causing a flutter from those wonderful doorwings.

"Yes, Jazz?"

Not one to beat around the bush, Jazz said exactly what he was thinking. "Ah think Ah wanna bond with ya."

Golden optics blinked, then narrowed. "That's not funny."

"Good, 'cause Ah ain't joking." Jazz replied, smiling at the black and white.

Usually Prowl's processors would tell him this was an extraordinarily bad idea. Too bad his processors weren't in charge right now. His spark was and it was happily agreeing with every word the silver mech had said and declaring its own wish to bond with the spark so close to itself. His spark knew he could trust Jazz. Prowl's processor declared his spark mad. Unfortunately Prowl himself was disinclined to listen.

Hence the words coming out of his mouth. "I think I want to bond with you too."

Jazz's soft smile turned into a brilliant grin. "Ya mean it?"

"I cannot believe I am actually saying this, and mean it, but yes, I do."

Jazz whooped in joy, grabbing Prowl and twirling him around in a happy dance. "Let's do it right now!"

"What? You… you mean right here, in the park?" The thought made the black and white blush furiously. Anyone could catch them if they happened to walk by, this was a public garden. Granted it was the middle of the night and there was no one else around right now, but still…

Jazz literally purred. An embarrassed Prowl was incredibly cute… and strangely hot. "Exactly," he whispered and bowed his head to nibble on Prowl's neck, earning himself a small moan.

Why was he opposed to this again, Prowl wondered. Right, bots could catch them, but somehow the black and white couldn't bring himself to tell Jazz to stop, not when it all felt so right. Social niceties be damned, he wanted this!

"Yes," Prowl breathed, wrapping his arms around the silver mech's neck, pulling Jazz closer to him until their lips met in a chaste but wonderfully sweet kiss, that soon turned into something more.

No more words were necessary.

Not long after that, underneath the canopy of the stars and the humming crystals two sparks became one forever.

And soon after that, the two enforcers who had happened to drive by their little nest arrested the happy couple for interfacing in public.

XXXXX

By the end of the tale Starscream was in stitches once again.

"Are you quite finished?" Prowl asked tartly, his arms crossed over his chest plates.

"Nu-uh," Starscream managed to get out, pausing only to wipe away some of the fluid in the corners of his red optics. The seeker couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so hard.

Slanting a look at the flier, Prowl came to an obvious realization. "You will never let me live this down, will you."

A broad grin appeared on the scientist's face. "Nope. Which reminds me." With startling alacrity the red and white mech pulled something from his subspace and before either the enforcer or the singer could move, the suspicious device emitted a flash and a click… "Every wedding should be commemorated with a picture!"

Triumphantly Starscream held up the image capturer he had fortunately still had in his subspace. He would never have forgiven himself for not securing hard evidence of this unforgettable event.

Prowl gaped, then golden optics narrowed. "You did not just take a picture of us in these cells."

"Yes, I did." Starscream grinned and put the image capturer back in his subspace where it would be safe. It wouldn't do if Prowl got his hands on the pictures before the scientist had made some safety copies after all.

"… Can Ah have a copy of that?" Jazz suddenly asked, raising his hand as if in class.

"Jazz!" Prowl exclaimed, looking at his bondmate in horror.

"Sure." The seeker answered without hesitation. He was beginning to think that Jazz was exactly what Prowl needed. Maybe he wouldn't scare him quite so badly when he took the silver mech aside for the traditional "If you break his spark there won't be enough parts of you left for the trash compactor"- speech. "Heads up, Prowl, at least they decided to let the two of you go with a warning this time, considering it was your first offense."

Jazz perked up noticeably at that, his customary good mood restored at the good news. "Sweet! We still have a bondin' ta celebrate."

For some reason Starscream didn't want to delve into further that comment made Prowl blush once again (it didn't take a genius to figure out what Jazz meant).

"Yes, you do. The others will never forgive you two if you don't give them the opportunity to tease you about this mercilessly." Starscream pointed out so reasonably that it made Prowl want to strangle him.

"And you'll make sure they have enough material, don't you?"

"Of course, Prowl, That's what friends are for."

The End

Author's Note: Not much of a plot, I know, but I hope you liked it anyway. Let me know what you think, please?


	6. Parlay!

Parlay!

Author: Thalanee

Verse: It's A Game (Because something this crazy could only happen in a game)

Word Count: 1900 words

Rating: pg-13

Warnings: crack… why do I always attract the crack bunnies?

Disclaimer: Nope, they're still not mine…

Summary: What do you do, when you're surrounded by enemies who are about to shoot you to Kingdom come? One word: parlay!

Author's Notes: Inspired by an old bunny from the tf- bunny farm: _"__[G1] Jazz: Looks likes I'm surrounded. *looks at surrounding Decepticons* Well only one thing to do! PARLAY!" _(link: http:/ tf-bunny-farm. livejournal. com/ #cutid1, just remove the empty spaces)

I'm still alive but the last month has been hell on earth and I had absolutely no time to write, as much as I would have loved to. This month doesn't look any better but if I hadn't written something, I'd have gone crazy, so sorry there's not really much plot.

Hope you like it anyway! Please let me know what you think.

XXXXX

When Jazz had professed an interest in the workings of Decepticon weaponry and stated his wish to find out exactly how those things were put together, staring right into the barrel of a Con's gun pointed at him wasn't what he had in mind as a research tool.

It was rather disturbing to have the business end of a humming, ready- to- fire weapon pointed right at his face.

And it was dirty. Its owner obviously wasn't the type to care for his weapon like he should. As close as he was to the barrel of the gun he could even see the tell-tale hairline cracks in the metal it was made of, a sure sign of neglect (and a tribute to the programmers' almost obsessive attention to detail, not that Jazz was complaining; the visuals certainly had improved very much compared to the boxy looking characters of the first generation game). Which brought Jazz's errant thoughts back to the problem at hand.

He was surrounded by mechs.

While that was not a problem in and of itself, the fact that all of those mechs were Decepticon soldiers was indeed. And all of them had one weapon or another trained at him. Some even used two. And except for the brave spark pressing his weapon right to Jazz's head, all the others kept a healthy distance to the well known saboteur.

Almost smirking to himself, the saboteur felt rather pleased with this show of caution. It was rather flattering to know that he had garnered such a fearsome reputation in the game that they all recognized him and didn't even dare come any closer despite the fact that he was alone, unarmed, restrained by a pair of cuffs and surrounded. He gave in to the grin tugging at his lips.

Upon the sight of his expression some of the 'Cons watching him actually took a half step back, while others gripped their weapons just a little tighter. What was it Prowl had once told him in a fit of mischief? Oh yes… smile, because it makes your opponents wonder what you're up to.

Speaking of which, he should find a way to get out of this quickly, it wouldn't do for a master saboteur to be rescued. He obviously had a reputation to maintain. Also he was proud of the fact that he never needed to be rescued (he knew Prowl was itching to return the favour).

Luckily Jazz knew just the thing to do to get himself out of his predicament…

"Looks like Ah'm surrounded," Jazz mused aloud looking around at the six anxious Decepticon soldiers still pointing their weapons at him, their faces revealing how suspicious they still were.

Scratching at his head, the silver Solstice hummed idly, making a show of thinking about what his next move should be, when an expression of devious delight appeared on his face. "Well, there's only one thing ta do then…"

Warily the soldiers watched, waiting for the saboteur to make a suspicious move, but he did no such thing. He just sat there, cleared his vocalizers, and then…

"Parlay!" shouted Jazz.

Perfect silence greeted his announcement. Unsure what to make of the Autobot's shout they exchanged confused looks and stared at Jazz as if he had lost his mind. Some even lowered their weapons. All the while Jazz looked at them expectantly.

"… Come again?" One of them finally said when it was obvious that no explanation was forthcoming.

"Ah said Parlay." Jazz repeated, azure visor glinting with mirth as he mentally dubbed the mech "Clueless".

"What's that mean?" A second Decepticon piped up, sounding just as confused as Clueless. Should he call him "Baffled" or "Stumped"?

The soldier pointing his gun at Jazz's head spoke up angrily. "Yeah, I never heard of that."

Somewhere to the side another mech yelled, "He's just messing with us, let's shoot him and get it over with. We still have to return to base."

"But it's part of the rules, mechs!" Jazz protested, doing his best to look as innocent as possible. No mech who knew him well would have been fooled by the act. "If Ah want ta parlay, ya have ta take me wit'ya to ya boss so Ah can negotiate with him. It's one of tha rules Vector Prime and the Fallen made up way back when." It would be so worth it to see Screamer's and Meggsie's faces, Jazz was severely tempted to actually let them drag him to their bosses.

Stumped sounded suspicious as he reached for his personal datapad. "So you say, I'll check."

The mech who had clamored for Jazz's execution sputtered indignantly. "Wait, you're taking him seriously? I'm telling you, this is bullslag! Why should we do what he wants?" Pointing at a wide-visored Jazz he turned to the other soldiers who were listening.

A mech Jazz recognized as Dead End had watched the proceedings with growing dread, his plating starting to rattle in agitation, before he suddenly started to wail. "He's planning something, we can't take him with us! We're all gonna die if we do! If he doesn't maul us, that mate of his will!" He was waving his arms around in a comical looking manner, causing his comrades to duck out of harm's way and curse him, because he still held his weapon.

Clueless tried to reason with Dead End. "Don't you think his mate will take it even worse if we kill him? Don't you remember what happened the last time some idiot killed that saboteur? Oh no, I say let him have his parlay and make him our officers' problem."

In this vein the discussion continued for quite some time.

Jazz watched them, giddily waiting for the right moment to put his plan into action.

None of them watched Jazz, too busy to argue among themselves, trying to decide whether to just shoot him, or give in to the Autobot's request for Parlay and take him with them, so none of them realized that he had long since wriggled out of his restraints.

Finally Stumped raised his head from his scrutiny of the datapad, a look of mild distaste on his face. "Besides he's right, says here in the oldest part of the Decepticon code of conduct, if a Bot wants to parlay we have to honor that request and take him to the highest ranking officer around."

"You've got to be kidding?" Jazz's guard moaned, unaware of the silver servo carefully reaching for the other pairs of stasis cuffs in a holster at his side. Having found what it was searching for the servo disappeared again, the soft clicks of three pairs of cuffs snapping shut drowned in the loud argument going on. The Decepticon soldiers were so busy they didn't even see as Jazz slowly backed away on all fours…

The spirited discussion continued, until Stumped, who apparently was of slightly higher ranking than the other soldiers, put his ped down. "I don't care how dangerous you think he is, we won't kill him now. What do you think Lord Megatron and Starscream will do if he carries info they want and we kill him? No, we'll deliver him to the higher ups, then he's not our problem anymore."

Continuing he turned to look at their captive, "You're lucky, Autobot, we'll-"

Oh. Slag.

The place where the silver prisoner had sat was conspicuously empty now. Frantically they all looked around to see where the saboteur had disappeared to, when a whistle drew their attention.

Only a few steps away Jazz had popped up again out if thin air, flipping something small into the air. "Hi guys!" he trilled cheekily.

Almost as one the six Decepticons started towards the lone Autobot, aiming to recapture him, but as soon as they moved forward, something tugged at their pedes and they all stumbled and tumbled into heaps on the ground. Moaning they looked at their pedes to see why they had fallen as soon as they took their first steps, staring in disbelief at the cuffs shackling them together in pairs of two, so that if one mech moved his right foot, the other had to move his left at the same time or they would end up as they were now: flat on the earth.

A cackle drew their attention back to the silver mech. "Ya lookin' for this mechs?" Now they recognized the silver item in his hand: it was the key to the stasis cuffs…

"Hey, give that back!" the Decepticon who had wanted to shoot him yelled.

For a moment Jazz pretended to think about it, then smiled. "Don't worry, Ah'll just borrow it, ya'll get in back in a couple of cycles. Until then…" he paused, but he just couldn't help himself, he had to say it… "ya'll remember this as the day ya almost caught Jazz!"

Whooping Jazz transformed and drove of at top speed, eager to get back to the Autobot base where his mate was waiting for him. He couldn't wait to tell Prowl about this.

Sometime later, back at the Decepticon base…

"Why didn't you just shoot him?" Starscream nearly wailed in disbelief when he was told how the Autobot saboteur had escaped capture, after coming across the three pairs of soldiers stumbling towards the barracks because their pedes were cuffed to each other. The Air Commander could scarcely believe his own audios. His troops couldn't possibly be that stupid, could they? How could they have fallen for that ruse?

One of the soldiers raised his hand hesitantly. "Is that what parlay means?" he asked, cocking his head in confusion.

"Yeah, I thought it meant we're supposed to let him talk and try to negotiate." The mech Jazz had christened Stumped explained. "It said so in the code."

The Decepticon Air Commander could feel one of his optics twitch nervously. Somewhere in the background he could have sworn he heard Skywarp and Thundercracker snickering. "We're Decepticons! We're not supposed to give a flying frag about the code, dammit!" he yelled, throwing his arms up in desperation. "Besides it's not a code, it's more guidelines. We don't have to follow them, we can ignore them as we please."

"But aren't we supposed to follow orders?"

"Of course you're supposed to follow orders, what kind of question is that?"

"But you just said we're supposed to do as we please instead of following the rules, and following rules is like following orders."

Starscream sighed. The next time he saw Jazz he was going to kill him.

The End.


	7. Surprise!

Surprise!

A birthday present for **kida_bridger**

Author: Thalanee

Verse: It's A Game-Verse

Word Count: 3650 words

Rating: pg-13

Warnings: no eating or drinking while reading this! Also, pure crack as usual.

Disclaimer: Transformers do not belong to me, I only play with them.

Summary: It's amazing the things you can do in an online game if you tweak the coding a little…Give yourself better weapons, up your scores, change the genders of your friends' characters…

Author's Notes: This was inspired by a wonderful picture of a great femme-Prowl I found on deviantart (just remove the empty spaces):

crimson-nemesis . /art/prowl-linchen-254180842

Doesn't she look great?

This is dedicated to the wonderful kida-bridger, to thank her for all the support she gave me this year. Happy birthday and a happy new year to you! ^^ I hope you like it!

XXXXX

The hacker rubbed his servos in barely containable glee as he finished the last adjustments to the game's code. "The Great War: Transformers Prime" was the newest edition of the online game that had enthralled many bots across Cybertron, from lower ranking dockhands to high ranking senators and nobles, even the seekers who usually kept their distances from anyone but their Praxian cousins played it with unbridled enthusiasm.

With each new edition of the game there was something new. The character designs were never the same, ranging from the blocky "Generation 1" designs to the smooth and very lifelike forms of "In Search of The Allspark" or the cartoon-inspired ones of "Stranded on Earth", background stories differed just as widely, as did the various missions and adventures and treasure hunts. The only constant were the two factions, the Autobots and the Decepticons, and even with these the game designers had played around when they developed the "Shattered Mirror"- add-on, turning around every preconception there was and making everything the opposite of what one expected.

In the hackers humble opinion however there was one thing that was missing, and he would be the one to rectify that mistake.

Crafting this little master piece had taken him a long time, but he was sure the long wait would be worth all the effort involved in learning how to program, a skill he had acquired just for the occasion. As a bonus, it turned out he was a natural at it.

His optics glinting the perpetrator checked the code one last time to make sure it would only do what he intended, since he didn't want any nasty side-effects spoiling his surprise for the other players. Once he was sure everything was in order, he activated the little program and stayed long enough to see it begin its work before he disconnected from the game's server.

Now it would only take a few more hours until the program ran its course. It took a lot of willpower for him not to log in and wait in the game for most of the players to join him. Being that early would be highly suspicious and he didn't want anyone to find out that he was the one responsible for this. At least not yet.

This was going to be so much fun!

XXXXX

Prowl looked down at his body in horror.

Or rather, her body.

Prowl had expected to look somewhat different after upgrading his gaming account to include the newest edition of the game, but never even in his wildest dreams would he have expected this outcome and he was pretty sure that this wasn't part of the description of the changes to the designs.

His black and white colour scheme and his doorwinged frame still were the same they had been before. The golden visor was a new addition to his looks prompted by a remark his-her bondmate had made, that each should adopt a feature of the other (Jazz planned to get back to the black and white paintjob he had shared with Prowl in their first game), but the rest of what he, no _she_ was currently staring at in rising mortification was most assuredly nothing Prowl had planned hi- herself.

Because her waist was just a little thinner than it had been before, drawing attention to the black hips, and her whole figure had turned a bit more slender. The curves of her armour were a little more pronounced even around her bumper, giving her a softer appearance. Though the doorwings and rocket launchers had remained as they were, her face had been altered slightly (was it Prowl's imagination or were her lips a little fuller than she was used to), giving it a more feminine appearance while still being recognizable as Prowl.

Prowl was now undeniably a femme.

She had always been prepared for some rather drastic changes with each new edition, but this was taking things rather far. It was a miracle that her touchy battle computer had long since stopped trying to analyze anything she stumbled across in the game. At the start it had kept crashing, taking her with it, but after some time it apparently resigned itself to the fact that this game wasn't supposed to be logical and had accepted the overrides Prowl had installed so she could play the game without crashing.

Turning and twisting so she could inspect her new body, Prowl quickly came to the realization that whoever was responsible for this turn of events (she didn't believe the game's developers were behind this, even though they did have a strangely quirky sense of humor) definitely knew what they were doing, because her transformed body looked perfectly natural, as if she had always been a femme.

She froze in shock as an errant thought crossed her mind.

Jazz would never let her live this down!

Groaning to herself (dear Primus, even her voice had changed), she could imagine without trouble the look of perverse delight on his face, since she somehow had the feeling that whatever this was, it would be just her luck that Jazz wasn't infected. No, he'd still be a mech, she was sure about that.

She couldn't let her bondmate see her like that!

Another trail of thought stopped her cold and golden optics narrowed to thin slits, as she actually hissed. He wouldn't. He just wouldn't.

Primus help her, Jazz would come up with some harebrained scheme like that. He wasn't one of the greatest resident pranksters for nothing. A prank like this seemed right up his alley. Her bondmate would enjoy the irony of the idea immensely.

If her suspicion proved right then her bondmate would better have a good excuse, because if he had done what she thought he had, he was in for a very rude awakening. She would have to teach him the error of his ways, and she knew exactly how she was going to do that. And even if he wasn't the miscreant at the centre of this ploy, he was one of the most likely suspects, one of the few who were shrewd enough to come up with the plan and talented enough to put thought into action.

The mech turned femme huffed to herself. With his penchant for getting into trouble, it would be a miracle if Jazz didn't get blamed.

No matter which, she'd either strangle him or have to rescue him. That meant finding him before he got into trouble. Activating her sensors she proceeded to track down her errant mate.

Prowl just hoped that wherever Jazz was just now, she would be the one to get to him first!

XXXXX

If only Prowl knew how right she was.

In fact, Jazz was enjoying the show very much.

It was not every day that you could watch big bad Megatron get his aft handed to him spectacularly by two femmes who didn't even reach his shoulders.

Because Starscream was not amused when he had logged into the game and found himself in a femme's body (to the delight of her two trinemates who –still being mechs themselves- had mercilessly teased the poor seeker). He, no she, had gotten over her shock rather quickly though when Megatron had appeared, having just logged into the game himself and proceeded to laugh himself silly upon seeing the white and red seeker shriek comically in horror at her new appearance.

Now, slagging off Starscream was bad enough in itself, but by a very unfortunate turn of events, Optimus and Ratchet had also been hit by whatever was causing the characters of random bots to change their frame types. Suffice to say, that of the two of them Ratchet especially had not taken well to being laughed at (Optimus was still being busy gaping at his new form like an Earth fish, his mouth opening as if he was about to say something, then closing as if he had thought better of it).

A couple of minutes into the argument, the fearless and great leader of the Decepticons had tucked his proverbial tail and ran, swiftly being followed by the two enraged femmes. Right at the moment they were running in circles, Ratchet throwing her returning wrenches and Starscream taking potshots at her leader from above.

"Why are you hovering there?" Megatron called out to the other Command Trine seekers who were busy watching the proceedings from the sidelines. "Get your afts over here and help me!"

"No one is going to help you, buckethead," Starscream exclaimed. "Your aft is mine!"

"Get in line behind me, flyboy!" Ratchet growled from behind, carefully taking aim and throwing. Survival instincts had Megatron dropping to the earth in time to avoid being hit.

"Ah say the deathblow is gonna be Ratchet's," Jazz announced, while Megatron picked himself of the earth to avoid being hit by one of Starscream's missiles, a triumphant noise bursting out of the massive mech as he realized that he was still largely uninjured, before he was hit in the back of the head which, sadly, was in the way of Ratchet's wrench returning to its mistress.

"I don't know, mech, I've never seen Starscream this furious, and I've known him since he was a sparkling. Those were some spectacular tantrums…," Skywarp mused, flinching in synchrony with the others when a particularly well placed Wrench of DoomTM hit the grey Decepticon warlord in a rather sensitive area, prompting him to topple over and clutching his crotch plate, groaning theatrically in defeat.

They all winced in sympathy, almost feeling the warlord's pain. It didn't stop Jazz and Skywarp from laughing though. Especially when Optimus waded into the fray to try and sooth the poor mech. Seeing femme Optimus fussing over Megatron and protecting him from the other femmes made the whole scene even more hysterical.

"Jazz wins." Thundercracker's tone of voice was perfectly dry, as if there was nothing outstanding about the insanity surrounding them. Maybe the dark blue mech was onto something.

Starscream however still wasn't satisfied, and now that she had been deprived of her opportunity to hand his aft to the Decepticon leader, her ire was looking for a new target. The fuming seeker wanted revenge!

"Look at the fun side of it." Jazz chuckled. A fatal mistake. Starscream zeroed in onto the silver mech. Thundercracker and Skywarp, apparently being possessed of sharper survival instincts than the unsuspecting Autobot, surreptitiously took a few cautious steps backward until they were standing a bit apart from Jazz, who they thought really should have known better.

"'Fun side'?! What do you mean 'fun side'?! I've fragging been turned into a femme!" Starscream wailed, his voice climbing up to heights never reached before. Jazz idly wondered if the seeker's screeching voice could be turned into a weapon if one could get her to scream at a high enough frequency. Something to think about for the future…

The idea of Starscream literally screaming his/her enemies into submission until they clutched their audios and surrendered was too bizarre not to be hilarious. The silver mech couldn't help but grin at the images his traitorous CPU was coming up with.

Unfortunately, he had neglected to account for Starscream's mood before he started chortling to himself.

Red optics narrowed at the clearly very amused saboteur, the seeker femme stepping closer until she loomed over Jazz (even in her smaller femme frame the seeker was taller than him). Meanwhile was beginning to dawn on him that laughing in the Aerial Commander's face wasn't one of his brightest ideas.

"You seem awfully pleased with this turn of events." Large wings rose in a threatening gesture and armour puffed up to make the femme look even more menacing. "You wouldn't have anything to do with this, by chance."

"Ah swear ta Primus, Ah'm innocent!" he squeaked, the answer being almost instinctual. Damn, but the mech could be scary when he set his mind to it, even now when he was a femme. Frantically he looked around to see if someone was willing to help him out.

Thundercracker and Skywarp, the fraggers, had developed a sudden burning interest in the armour covering their peds and thrusters and were studying them with intense focus. Megatron was still being fussed over by his brother turned sister. And Ratchet was looking at him suspiciously.

"Now, let's not be hasty an' do anything ya might regret later, right?" Holding up his hands in a nonthreatening gesture the saboteur tried his best to look as innocent as possible holding on to the hope that femme- Starscream might be more susceptible to the kicked puppy look than mech- Starscream but to no avail.

"Oh I don't think I'll regret this." Starscream answered, her grin looking slightly demented to his optics.

Jazz gulped.

"I beg to differ," a new voice called out. It sounded very familiar to Jazz and when he turned to look at the speaker he knew why.

There, up on top of a precipice was Prowl.

Femme Prowl.

Jazz couldn't have looked away even if he had wanted to. Who would have known that Prowl as a femme would look that gorgeous? She stood with one foot up on a rock, doorwings flared out and drawing attention to the look on her face that could only be described as a saucy smirk. Her optics were hidden behind a golden visor, but Jazz swore he knew that behind that piece of glass they were twinkling mischievously. The weapon in her left was trained on Starscream but what really had Jazz's attention, apart from the smirk on her face, were the handcuffs dangling from the second digit of her right hand.

If he wasn't already bonded to Prowl he would have proposed on the spot.

While Jazz was busy drooling over the changed appearance of his bondmate, Starscream scowled at the other femme.

"So you've been hit by this too."

Prowl cocked her head slightly (the part of him that wasn't staring in fascination at the part of her neck that was being exposed by the motion knew that one of her optic ridges was raised). "Indeed."

Starscream sputtered. "That's all you have to say to this? Someone turned as into slagging femmes and all you say is 'Indeed'?"

Assured that her best friend wouldn't do anything permanent to her bondmate, Prowl lowered her weapon. "I would be happy to oblige if my running around screaming would help you, but personally I would prefer finding the real perpetrator, so we can persuade him to remove whatever virus caused this change."

"I already did."

"True Jazz is one of the most likely suspects, but I prefer to accumulate some evidence before handing out punishment. Once we have traced the virus back to its creator, I will hand the delinquent over to you. Is that satisfactory to you?"

With a move that was poetry in motion to the performer in Jazz, the tactician jumped from the rock to gracefully land on the earth below it and joined the other bots.

There was no way she could argue with that, so Starscream didn't. "How do you propose to accomplish that?"

"I am tracing the virus as we speak, both in- game and out- game. It will not take long now." Prowl paused, then glanced at Starscream. A grin that could only be described as diabolical adorned her face (Jazz felt his engine pick up speed). "Do you already have an appropriate punishment in mind, or are you open to a suggestion?" the femme asked sweetly.

A matching grin graced the seeker femme's face. "I might… what have you got?"

When Prowl explained what would be in store for the sorry bot that had come up with the virus, the two femmes laughed.

And the present mechs whimpered.

XXXXX

Watching the proceedings from afar the hacker was delighted how his little project had turned out. Of course he had hoped that Prowl would be one of the players to be hit by the virus, but to see it actually come true before his very own optics was more than he had dared to dream of. Who would have known that Prowl would make such a good looking femme.

And the show Starscream and Ratchet had put on with Megatron had been beyond funny. Warm shivers of contentment ran through his frame- both in game and out- to see his plan work so flawlessly.

It was a pity he couldn't hear what the femmes were saying, but he didn't dare approach, especially now that Prowl was there. That mech, femme could see right through him even at the best of times and he was having a hard time not to collapse in a fit of hysterical giggling as it was. Earlier, he had nearly given himself away when Starscream had literally started screaming the stars down and now his trouble-senses were hollering at himto run like hell because Prowl was onto him and soon he'd be in Trouble.

Under other circumstances that sense of his had been immensely helpful to avoid getting caught out by Prowl, ar at least, delay the inevitable, because no matter what he did, sooner or later the tactician caught him. Those real life cop-bot instincts apparently paid off in the game too. But there was no way the doorwinger had found out already, was there?

Another shudder ran along his frame, this time umcomfortably hot.

Swiftly followed by another.

Something wasn't right there. Maybe he , oh the irony, caught another virus himself? But no, there was nothing wrong with his real frame, this was only in the game. Could you actually get sick in-game? Frowning, he contemplated that realism could be taken a bit too far, when he realized edges of black encroaching in his vision.

Oh slag. That couldn't be. Prowl hadn't!

Before he could form another more coherent thought, everything became black.

XXXXX

The group of bots stared at the form before them in fascination.

"Ya know, baby, that gives new meaning ta the expression 'cruel an' unusual punishment." Jazz had his arms wrapped about his still femme-inized mate, entranced by the differences and the similarities. Besides he wasn't one to miss the opportunity to touch Prowl in any way.

"I know." White wings flapped lazily in contentment, as their owner purred in satisfaction at another of her plans coming together.

"In this particular instance, I don't mind admitting that I couldn't have come up with a better punishment." Starscream quipped, casually taking another image capture in spite of the furious clicks coming from the being before her.

"The little slagger brought in on himself," Ratchet scoffed, prompting Megatron to hide behind the smaller Optimus as best he could. "Don't even try that look on me, it didn't work when you were and adult, and it doesn't work now."

The addressed mech chirred, sounding slightly depressed, before he put out his lower lip in a pout. How he would have loved to give the other bots a piece of his processor, but he couldn't, because. They. Had Turned him. Into. A sparkling!

He had been horrified when he had woken up looking up at the much taller bots surrounding him. His sluggish processors had latched onto the fact that even lying flat on the floor, the others shouldn't look that much taller but he hadn't quite been able to figure out what was different until he had looked at his own body. His very much smaller body. He was positively tiny in comparison to the others, his small servos and peds would have fitted into theirs several times and when he managed to actually stand up for a while, he barely reached knee-height, before plonking down on his aft again, his baby blue optics wide.

Sideswipe clicked furiously to himself. Turning the tables about like that simply wasn't right. Even more so because it had been Prowl who had reprogrammed his own virus to turn the victim into a sparkling instead of a femme and sent it back to him!

Proper, straight-laced Prowl had pranked him!

Any other day he could have laughed, even appreciated the irony, not now though, maybe he was still in shock.

"Do not worry unduly, Sideswipe, the effects will wear off after the same duration you specified for the virus you gave us. Besides," Prowl said, a suspiciously smug tone in her voice, "you make a very cute sparkling."

That tore it. Sideswipe flung himself at the black and white's leg, clicking furiously, while the others watched him try to climb up the appendage.

Jazz, his chin resting on Prowl's shoulder, nudged his mate slightly, prompting her to turn and look at him quizzically.

"Prowler?"

"Yes, Jazz?"

"I'm glad ya're on our side."

"Indeed."

"And Prowler?

"Yes, Jazz?"

"I love it when you're being devious."

The End (for now)

Author's Notes II: There have been some very good genderbender- or mechs as sparkling- tales out there, and one day it struck me: there's hardly any setting in which those changes make more sense than in a game! I just had to write this.

So, how did you guys like it?


End file.
